


Cool and Quiet

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: America setting, Boxing, M/M, North Carolina, Small Towns, Soccer, Track and Field, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 05:35:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19125646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: Liam just recently started boxing because he’s getting picked on, but Niall exudes this kind of confidence that’s hard to describe?





	Cool and Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 15: High school au where Person A is a nerd/outsider and Person B is the cool kid/jock. Person B comes to the defense of Person A who's being teased/bullied and an unlikely friendship (that becomes more) forms.

It starts on a Thursday in September, but it doesn’t get relentless until March. The first time someone knocks Liam over, it’s out of the blue, and he takes it for an accident. Two weeks in, he knows it’s no accident, but he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He makes up excuses to his parents about the split lips and random bruises, but he knows that at the very least his sisters don’t buy anything he says. His sisters are far more intuitive than he is, although he’s gotten a bit better about lying. He’s gotten a bit better about being able to tell when other people are lying, though. Probably.

Sometimes, he steals Ruth’s cover-up for his bruises, but he doesn’t really know how to use it. Plus, it doesn’t really work, instead drawing more attention to his skin than anything.

When things get relentless, Liam takes up track and field. It’s his dad’s suggestion, once they start talking about college applications, but he also thinks it’s so that Liam will have a fighting chance of running away from people. By the end of the season, he’s the best on the team, and part of that is because he practices way more than anymore else. In the last meet, he beats his quickest time by nearly fourteen seconds.

After their last meet, his coach congratulates everyone at the spaghetti dinner, inviting people to dig in. He then moves around the room as people gather food, greeting runners and talking to their families. When he reaches Liam’s family, they’ve just sat down with their food, and Coach shakes Liam’s parents’ hands before clapping Liam on the back.

“You’ve got yourselves a star here, y’all. You really do.”

Liam ducks his head. “You’re too kind, sir.”

Coach rolls his eyes, but it’s gentle. “What you onto next, then?”

“I’m just a junior, so I guess I still have—options.”

“Course you do, son, course you do. I was fixing to mention, actually, I run a summer boxing camp you might like, could be a good thing for you.”

Liam’s face comes up to look at his dad, whose own eyes are sort of shuttered in a way Liam’s never really seen before. “S’a nice idea,” his mom says. “Never hurts to learn a new skill.”

“Sure,” Liam adds. “Sure, yeah.”

 

And because a little bit of boxing in the heat of a North Carolina summertime apparently never hurt anybody, Liam signs up for camp. 

Over the course of the summer, he gains about twenty pounds, mostly of muscle, and he has a growth spurt that he tries to ignore. On the off-days, he heads to the track at school and runs until he can barely breathe. 

Regardless, he walks home every day, usually ducking into the Piggly Wiggly for the air conditioning and so he can buy some Powerade. He’s perpetually aware of the summertime heat and the overwhelming fact that he’s a sweaty mess, but he tries not to care.

He suspects that the theme of his senior year will be _trying not to care._ He’s not entirely looking forward to it.

Somewhere near the middle of the summer, when he’s feeling particularly beaten-down by sheer loneliness and disgusting southern heat, he grabs three bottles of Powerade and a package of Oreos. He hefts them all towards the only open check-out lane, which is three people deep. He briefly glances as the headlines of the tabloids and magazines lining the rack, grabbing a pack of gum on impulse.

“Mrs. Peterson, great to see you again! How is Pickles handling all this heat?” Liam hears as he loads his stuff onto the conveyor belt. He glances up at a clerk he doesn’t recognize, ringing up the purchases of Liam’s third-grade teacher.

“Oh, you. I keep saying you can call me Gwen.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but my mother would skin me alive, and you know that’s the truth.”

She pats his arm as he bags up her milk, bread, and cake mix. “All right, son, but the offer stands. And Pickles is fine, loving the new brand of food you mentioned last week.”

“Glad to hear it. Give ‘im my best!” Then he offers to carry her bags out to her car, even though he’s the only clerk and there are customers behind her. It’s both endearing and annoying, but Mrs. Peterson says she only has three items and compliments the clerk on being a _very sweet boy._

Liam watches her leave, blinking slowly as he feels sweat drip down his back. He startles when he hears, “Heya,” and he twitches slightly.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“No worries.” The clerk starts ringing up his drinks, very slowly. “Look kinda familiar, y’all live nearby or somethin?”

“Not far.” Liam shrugs, not wanting to open himself up to criticism or commentary from anyone in particular, especially someone he doesn’t know. “Liam. I’m Liam.”

“I’m Niall,” the clerk says, ringing up his gum and cookies. “Maybe I’ve just seen you ‘round the store, then.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Liam grabs money from the pocket of his basketball shorts, ducking his head down. “I run nearby. Some days.”

Niall grins, clicking two buttons on the till. “Thus the electrolytes.”

“Yeah. The—yeah.”

He takes Liam’s money, clicking more buttons. “So, you run, that’s sweet. I’ve been looking for stuff to do when I’m not here, you know, bringing home the bacon.” And at this, he points to the pig logo on his nametag, grinning again. “Maybe you could show me where you run sometime? I’m more of a soccer guy, but honestly, I don’t know anyone but Mrs. Peterson and her cat Pickles.” He hands Liam his change, moving to bag his purchases. “Could be cool.”

“What?”

Niall shrugs. “I mean, we only moved here like a month ago.”

“No, I—you want to hang out with me?” Liam fish-mouths, taking the bag from Niall.

“Sure.” Niall smiles again, and Liam notices that his teeth are a little crooked.

“Oh, yeah, okay.”

Niall grabs a pen, writing his number on the back of Liam’s receipt. “Thanks,” he says, handing it over.

Liam blink, ducking his head. “Yeah, course.”

“Text whenever!”

 

Liam doesn’t text right away, because he’s not that much of an idiot, but he stops into the grocery one evening when his mom wants him to pick stuff up so she can make lasagna. 

He boxed three days in a row, and his knuckles don’t look great. He should probably be wrapping them and not just shoving them into worn-out gloves before pounding at a heavy bag or sparring. He doesn’t spar that often, not quite trusting his skills yet, but he likes the feel of the pull at his shoulders as he jabs forward.

He jogs from camp to the Piggly Wiggly, swiping at his forehead as he enters the store. He navigates the aisles as quickly as he can, wanting to open a bottle of water and head home immediately.

Instead, he spots Niall on his knees organizing cans of soup and beans in the aisle he’s trying to get tomato sauce from, and he freezes. The movement of him freezing seems to startle Niall, who turns to look at him. He gives Liam a slow smile.

“Heya!” His eyes crinkle slightly at the sides as he sets down a can on the shelf. “Can I help you find anything?”

“No, nope, no worries, just making lasagna.”

“Sounds good.” He stands up, face still open as he meets Liam’s gaze again. “I don’t get off til late, I’ll probably just end up eating freezer pizza.”

Liam tips his head to one side at that, rubbing one hand at the back of his neck. “There are worse things, I reckon.”

Niall’s eyes go wide as he looks at Liam’s hand. He moves forward, peering at Liam’s knuckles. “Bro, what happened? Who’d you beat up?”

Liam blanches, nearly dropping his basket of food. “What? No—I, no.” That is absolutely the wrong impression he wants to give of himself. “I don’t just run, I box, too. This is—boxing.”

“Sick.” Niall’s face clears, slowly, as he moves to take the basket from Liam’s hand. “How about we find you some frozen peas for those wounds, in that case.”

 

By the time Liam leaves the store, he and Niall have set up a time to go running together, and Niall has Liam’s number in his phone.

 

They head to the Gamble HS track, since for whatever reason Coach trusts Liam to use it even during the summer when the only people using the facilities are delinquents and over-achievers.

They set their stuff down on a bleacher and Niall chuckles lightly. “You, like, really compete then.”

“D’ya mean?”

“You have the right kind of cleats. The only kind I have are for soccer.”

Liam laughs. “Coach would kill me if I let that happen. Just use your Nikes.” He gestures down towards Niall’s sneakers.

Niall rolls his eyes. “Well then, I have a double handicap, cuz my one knee’s bum and you’re actually a runner.”

“I—”

“Three two one!” Niall cries, setting off before he’s even finished speaking. He cackles wildly, looking over his shoulder at Liam periodically.

Liam lets him win.

Niall sits down hard on the bench, picking up his bottle of water. “You let me win.”

Liam shrugs.

Niall shakes his head. He turns to shoot Liam a wild grin, dashing away. “Two out of three!”

 

Liam lets him win all three times.

Niall sucks down the entirety of his waterbottle and invites Liam to get a burger, since he’s apparently _starving._

Liam gets a chocolate milkshake and fries, ducking his head when he tells Niall that he likes to dip the fries into the shake.

“Oh, that’s cool, can I try?” Niall asks, immediately picking up a fry from his own plate and poking it towards Liam’s glass.

“Yeah, sure, sure, that’s fine.”

Niall drops the fry back onto his plate, raising a brow. “Y’all don’t have to say it’s fine if it’s not, y’know.”

Liam scoffs. “Not gonna deny anyone the chance to try a fry in a shake.” He picks up a fry of his own, rolling his eyes as Niall hefts a huge scoop of shake onto his fry.

They play table-football with a sugar packet and their fingers while they finish their food. This time, Liam doesn’t let Niall win.

 

They’re both laughing at the fact that Niall’s managed to flick the sugar packet into a different booth when Liam’s classmate George saunters up with three football players, and, like, all of them really seem to hate Liam.

“Gay,” George murmurs, rolling his eyes.

Liam immediately ducks his head, shoulders folding in. He doesn’t really want to, but he does. Niall laughs, but he’s not laughing at Liam. “What, you jealous?” Liam’s head snaps up.

George frowns. “Fuck off.”

Niall rolls his eyes, picking up a new sugar packet. He eats a fry nonchalantly. “Such brilliance.”

“You don’t even know what you’re up against,” George responds.

Niall looks at Liam, giving a small, private smile. “Sure.”

Liam’s not breathing right, and his muscles feel so tight that all he can do is stare at Niall.

“Bet the sheriff would love to hear that you’re threatening random townsfolk for eating burgers,” Niall adds, folding another sugar packet into a football.

“You don’t know that.”

Niall snorts, flicking the sugar football into the booth behind Liam again. “My dad’s the new sheriff, dick. Not to pull nepotism, but we’ll get way less time in jail if Liam or I punch your lights out than if you punch ours.”

“What, this pussy? As if he could,” one of George’s cronies mutters.

“I reckon you need to fuck off.” Liam is surprised that he’s the one who spoke, and even more surprised to see Niall give him a huge grin.

 

They don’t finish their food, but Niall pays and drives Liam home.

 

During their run two days later, Niall sighs. “I have a question.”

“O-okay.”

They keep pace with one another, arms pumping. Niall is silent for a while. “How do you feel about soccer?”

 

They vary their running routine with soccer when Niall’s not at work and Liam’s not boxing, but Liam is starting to think that the flush in his own cheeks is no longer coming just from the North Carolina heat.

They basically just do drills, since there are only two of them, but Liam’s not complaining.

 

He’s mostly just glad to have a friend.

 

By the middle of August, Liam’s worried about the beginning of school. He and Niall have been running and training together for a good long time, and they see one another at the store, and they hang out sometimes in Niall’s basement playing FIFA.

Liam tries not to stare at him too much, because he’s heard that’s an unsettling trait, but Niall has this comforting way of circling his arm around Liam’s shoulder and cuddling him in, even when they’re both sweaty and disgusting. Liam likes it more than he should.

He likes it a lot.

 

A few days before school starts, Niall dumps half his waterbottle over his face after their run. Spluttering, he asks, “So you go to school here, hm?”

“Yeah, Coach lets me use the track. He’s who I do boxing with, too.”

“Dude, that’s sick. You get to do whatever you want!”

Liam snorts. “Not exactly.”

“You think you can help me get on the soccer team?”

“I can’t do jackshit,” Liam laughs, collapsing onto the bleachers. “Wait, the soccer team? Here?”

“Yeah, I’m—this is where I’m going to school.” Niall swipes at his face, moving water from his face.

“You are?”

“Bro, I thought you knew that,” he adds with a laugh, leaning over to jostle Liam’s shoulder. “Is there another school near here?” He chuckles again. “Reckon you’re gonna be embarrassed to see me Monday, right?”

“What? No!”

Niall blinks a bit more water from his eyes before taking a sip. A smile plays at his lips as he drinks. Liam can’t look away.

“You’re—teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Little bit, yeah.” Niall finishes his water, shrugging one shoulder. “Lil anxious, though. Starting a new place is always weird, ‘specially as a senior.”

Liam nods.

“Nice to know the hot jock won’t ignore me my very first day, though.” Niall chucks his empty bottle at Liam’s head and starts to run. “Race you to mine!”

Liam immediately chokes on his spit before he starts to run.

He lets Niall win.

 

Niall picks Liam up on the first day of school, claiming that he needs talking-down before first hour.

“You’re just nervous, right?” Liam asks, ditching his bookbag by his feet.

“Very.”

“It’ll be okay.” 

Niall shoots him a wide grin, crooked teeth prominent in the brightness of the morning sun.

 

They have Chem together first-off, and Liam walks with Niall to his locker secondarily. “You didn’t want to get to your locker first?”

Niall shrugs. “Wanted to spend time with you.” Niall pats him on the arm, and Liam nearly chokes again.

 

Later, Niall finds him in the cafeteria, sidling up to him like it’s nothing. “Hey, good to see you, bro.”

“Yeah, you-you too!” Liam agrees, knocking their shoulders together.

They chat together easily enough, and when Niall gets up to throw his trash away, he knocks his shoulder into Liam’s.

 

By the end of Monday, Liam’s halfway in love, and he has no idea what to do about it.

 

By the end of Thursday, Liam knows he’s absolutely fucked.

 

Over the weekend, he knocks on Ruth’s doorframe, even though the door’s open. She’s his older sister, after all, and he’s slightly frightened of the rage he incurs when he walks into her room unannounced.

 

Also, he’s not a dumbass.

 

“I don’t really know what to do, R.”

“Oh, nugget.” She gestures to her desk chair, moving her laptop to her side.

Liam sits down, tucking one leg beneath his other. “What do you do when you like someone?”

“Um, I mean, I suppose it depends. Sometimes you tell them.”

“What if. Uh.”

She waits, sort of patiently.

He clears his throat. “What if it’s a guy?”

“Oh. Then just know that guys are really dumb.”

“Right.”

“Like, really dumb.”

“Okay.”

“Like. You’re the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

He scrunches his nose, tipping his head to one side.

“But I love you so much, you know?”

“Right.” Liam stands up. “I’m not actually sure this was helpful.”

“That’s what I’m here for!”

 

 

Then he goes to call Nicola, who doesn’t answer. She calls him back an hour later as she’s walking to her car. “What’s up, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“Right.” He can hear her rolling her eyes. “I totally believe you.”

“What do you do when you like someone?”

Her answer is immediate. “Pine for months while staring at them in a creepy fashion, I reckon.”

“Oh no.”

Nicola immediately starts laughing.

 

On Monday, Liam swallows hard as he gets into Niall’s truck. He hands over a Thermos of coffee, cradling his own mug in the other.

“Oh wow, thanks!”

“Least I can do.”

Niall shakes his head, settling the Thermos into his cupholder. “The least you can do is just fucking show up, really.”

Liam drops his eyes down, biting his bottom lip. “Happy to be here.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

 

Wednesday brings a new kind of hell for Liam.

George shoves him into a locker before he can think twice, before he realizes that he’s strong enough to fight back. Liam eventually shoves him off, but he’s got a bruised collarbone to show for it.

 

Niall sits down next to him at lunch, bumping their shoulders together.

Liam winces, flinching away.

“Whoa, hey. You okay?”

Liam shrugs. “Not sure that’s the word I’d use, but sure.”

“What’s wrong?” Niall ducks in close, lowering his voice a little. His hand ghosts over Liam’s lower back, and Liam shudders slightly. “Shit, what’s wrong?”

“George is the problem.” He yanks down the neck of his shirt, showing the doubtless purling bruise on his collarbone. 

“Why—what—” Niall spins around wildly, looking around the cafeteria. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“No, that’s—please don’t.” Liam grabs him by the wrist, feeling as though his stomach might burst through his torso.

Niall turns back to Liam, face cloudy and dark. He twists his hand gently, disentangling Liam’s hand from his wrist before grasping Liam’s wrist in his own hand. He picks up his lunch in one hand, gesturing for Liam to do the same with his. “Come on.”

Liam panics further, remaining seated. “What—why?”

“Just—just trust me. Come on.”

He lets Niall lead him by the hand, feeling like a puppydog on a leash. They leave the cafeteria, winding through the halls, Liam holding his lunch under his arm like a tool. “Where are we going?”

“The principal’s office.”

“It’s pointless, Ni, seriously. I’ve been down this road before.”

Niall rounds on him as they get outside Principal Winthrop’s office. “Gotta give it the old college try.”

“We’re in high school.”

“That’s the spirit. Now buck up, Chief. We’re going in hot.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Liam says as Niall yanks him by the hand and barges directly into the office.

 

Niall storms past the vice-principal, still holding onto Liam’s hand. He sits down immediately, putting his lunch on the floor before he crosses his arms. “Hi, I’m Niall, I’m new here, and I need to file an incident report.”

“Excuse me?” Principal Winthrop tips his head to one side, seemingly too shocked to make Niall leave.

Liam also turns to look at Niall, dropping into a chair. It seems that Niall’s a force to be reckoned with.

“It seems this school has a bullying problem, and I would like to help my friend file an incident report.” He gestures to Liam, nodding twice.

“Okay,” Winthrop says slowly.

Liam sighs, moving the neck of his shirt down, poking at the bruise on his collarbone.

Winthrop leans forward, eyes widening. “Son, who did this to you?”

“George Strokes,” Liam replies, which is probably some sort of irony that Liam hasn’t learned about yet in English, because George’s favorite thing to do is call Liam _gay._ “He shoved me into a locker and, like, put me in a chokehold.”

“And—did the other student imply why he did that?”

“What?” Liam asks, face crinkling in confusion.

“Did you—provoke him at all?”

Niall gets to his feet. “Sir, and I use that term loosely only because my mother would kill me if I didn’t call you _sir,_ this is a hate crime.” He leans forward. “And my dad’s the new sheriff, if that’s relevant information.”

Principal Winthrop blanches, picking up a pen to begin taking notes.

 

A half-hour later, Niall walks Liam to his Spanish class, claiming he’ll _smile and apologize for being new at such a big school_ to get out of a detention for being late.

“That’s—thanks. You didn’t have to do all that.”

Niall shrugs. “Sure I did.” He gives Liam a lopsided smile. “Abuse of power comes as no surprise. Jenny Holzer.”

Liam nods, mentally committing it to memory so he can search the quote later online.

“But sometimes it can helpful to throw around some weight when your dad’s—”

“The new sheriff,” Liam says, laughing slightly. “I think I heard that somewhere.”

“Damn right.”

 

A few days later, while they’re circling the track lazily, Liam asks one of the questions that’s been eating at him. “Um, the other day, when you said hate crime, like. What did you mean?”

Niall is quiet for a while, biting at his lower lip. Liam looks at him sideways until he almost trips over his own feet. “Well, I mean. George is a dick to you because he thinks you’re gay or something, right?”

Liam’s stomach drops. “I guess.”

“That’s kind of the definition of a hate crime, dude. Beating someone up because of their sexual orientation?”

“I—”

Niall stops jogging, reaching out to grasp Liam by the arm. “Come on, let’s sit.” He walks them towards the bleachers, falling backwards onto the first row. “So, I know I can be a little—” He pauses, searching for the right word.

“Mouthy?”

“I was gonna say excitable, but my mom would probably agree with you.”

Liam laughs. “I reckon your mom and I are right.”

Niall heaves a sigh. “But I—I have a reason to be.”

“Oh. _Oh.”_

“We didn’t just move here for my dad’s job.” Niall rakes his hand through his hair before rubbing at the back of his neck. “You can probably read between the lines on that one,” he scoffs.

“Not one of my best skills, but here I think I can. Yeah.”

Niall ducks his head down. “Yeah.”

“But you’re like—popular and shit.” Liam scoffs a bit himself, turning bodily towards Niall, tucking one leg beneath the other.

“Not really. Not if you knew me at my old school, for sure. I guess Pickles likes me.” Niall shrugs, grimacing. “What can I say. I contain multitudes.”

Liam groans. “Don’t make me go home and google that too, please. I already looked up Jenny Holzer.”

Niall finally smiles. “That one’s Walt Whitman. I kind of fell into art and reading when shit got too hard.”

“Yeah. Boxing. Well, track and field first, but. Yeah. Boxing.” Liam exhales heavily.

“Yeah, that’s—kinda why I freaked when I saw your knuckles that time.” Niall spins when Liam balks at that. “No, I didn’t think you were gonna punch me, that’s—no. It was a reflex.”

“Shit.”

“So. Got jumped by the football team repeatedly. Broke my nose twice. And yeah, maybe now I’m too mouthy and excitable, but maybe it’s because I’m trying to reclaim something for myself in an unfair world.”

“Yeah, I—I get that. But I’m, like, not always great with words. Think it’s why my dad suggested track and field,” Liam admits. Niall furrows his brows. “So I, like, could run away when verbal de-escalation tactics didn’t work.”

Niall literally slaps his leg with one hand, laughing. “Okay, I know that’s fucked-up, but it’s also kinda funny.”

“Hey, fuck you, I can run circles around you!”

“Except you always let me win. Unlike you, sometimes I can read between the lines.”

“You’re—teasing me.”

Niall gives him a crooked smile. “Just a little bit.”

“So. Um. Where do we go from here?”

“Wanna go get burgers?” Niall bounces to his feet, reaching out his hand to help Liam up. He holds his hand as they move from the track to the parking-lot.

“Hold up, ya’ll. You know I really like you, right?”

Niall leans up on one Nike. “I’m aware,” he says, planting a sloppy kiss on Liam’s cheek. “First one to the truck doesn’t have to pay for shakes!”

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this! Thanks for the prompt!


End file.
